The Wolf and the Giant
by Shirahoshi
Summary: She was a wolf, who forgot she was one; he was a giant, smaller than all giants. And now the winds brought them together at the most unlikely place.


The girl could have been eleven, at most, and yet her grey eyes made it look like she had lived as long as the All-Father have.

She was a scrawny little thing. Skin, little meat and bones to keep it all up, although she didn't seem to lack food. Simply, it didn't stay on her. Messy brown hair, barely reaching her shoulders, hands quick as spiders. Anytime he had seen her she was wearing black and white robes.

And she was clever as well as curious, dangerously unfortunate combination.

The first time they met was after a torture "session". She had been already waiting when the men with the false face thrown him inside. He landed on his back which was most unlucky due to the fact that he had been recently whipped.

He had doubted that he even had skin left there.

"What did you do?" was her first question, "What could you have possibly done that you were not found fit to receive the Many-faced God's gift?"

"Gift?"

"Death," she said and started to chew the insides of her cheek before catching herself. "We do not torture. So either somebody must have paid a lot, or you've done something that made you unworthy."

Unworthy. There is that word again.

"What is your name?" he asked instead of answering.

"I have no name."

"Everyone has one." She shrugged.

"I don't. I'm no one. I was somebody once, but that was a long time ago," she said, tightening the bandage around his torso.

"What did you do this morning?" He knew by the way her hands trembled sightly that she was surprised by the question.

"I... Ate breakfast then did my chores."

"Then you are the girl who ate her breakfast and then did her chores. You are not no one," he said, shrugging his tunic onto himself.

At least they left him that and his jacket.

The girl packed her things up and left.

* * *

"How was your day?" he asked two weeks later. This question became something of a ritual for him.

"It passed."

"Ah. It passed. Well or badly?"

"It passed," she repeated herself.

"Come on, don't be like that. Talk to me. It's boring to hear only my voice."

"Where did you come from?"

"From Asgard. More-less. If you mean where I was born, well... Not there."

"You lie," she said, soaking the sponge she was holding, "There is no village, city or kingdom named Asgard."

"There is. But it's far, far away."

Compared to these people Midgardians could be called evolved. At least they realised that they couldn't possibly be the only people in the universe. Well... Most of them realised.

"You still haven't told me your name."

"I told you. I have none."

"Yes. Of course. Possessing a name would make you somebody, yes? Somebody with whom actions could be associated. Let me tell you a secret - even if you persuade yourself that you are truly no one, you have to breath. And if somebody would make a list of all those in the city who are breathing, you would become the girl with no name who breaths. You can't truly be nobody."

"That doesn't make any sense." He cocked his head slightly.

"Doesn't it?"

* * *

"You have been here for half a year and yet you're still alive," said the girl. Loki coughed, blood bubbling out from his mouth.

"What can I say? They like to hear me sing."

"You do not sing. You scream." Sometimes she could be as dense as Thor.

"I've never said what kind of song."

"I know why do they torture you. To make you confess. I do not know why, though."

"And you don't want to know, either."

"You're stupid. If you do not confess the tortures will go on. So why don't you?"

"Because the songs I would sing would give nightmares to your bald friend." She was silent for a moment, wiping the blood away from the gashes.

"The Many-faced God isn't this cruel. Even if you were found unfit to have the mercy of a quick death, you should have died long ago. From blood loss, if nothing else."

"Yeah. I have never had luck with that one. It seems that not even Death wants a wretched soul like mine."

"He doesn't make a difference between good or bad, rich or poor. So why would he do so with you?"

"I have defied him too many times."

"How?"

"By not dying when the chance arose."

"Even then, if you do not confess, the tortures will continue."

"I have had it worse." He felt her froze for a moment.

"Did you? How?" Loki smiled, turning his head.

"You seem too eager to learn. Is there somebody you wish to torture?" The girl's face closed off; ah. Soft point.

"No."

"Let's have a deal - you release me, give me the names and the rest will be taken care of."

She threw the bandages into his face, then slammed the door behind her.

* * *

His insides were on fire.

After half a year his torturers decided that whipping doesn't bring the desired effect, be that with a regular whip, they got creative.

Why not add poisons to the mix? Although they might have killed a regular human, against an Aesir (or a frost giant for that matter) they were of no use. Not of the kind they were developed for, anyway. But they still could give them a trip to Hel.

The tears of Lys were rather fascinating. To think that such a tiny thing could mean his end, was he born a human.

"Why don't you just confess?"

"I'm not the confessing type. Have you thought about my offer?"

"I do not seek vengeance."

Loki cracked a smile.

"Ah. So you do."

The girl frowned, still not realising the trap she had just walked in.

"I just said I do not."

"I was talking about torture. I didn't said anything about killing somebody?"

He grunted as she started to apply the balm.

"Why do you not tell me your name? Any name. I can't keep calling you girl forever."

"Yes you can. For I have none."

"You're stubborn."

"Not nearly as much as you are," she said, smiling weakly, before motioning at the stitches. "How can you survive this?"

"I told you."

"That you are not one favoured by Him of Many Faces, yes. But not the real reason."

"Ah, well. I am god."

"You lie. There is only one god. You must be a powerful sorcerer. And a deserter. You must have done something terribly wrong. So they torture you until you give up some information before giving you the gift."

"I'm no deserter. I merely decided not to play by the rules. Turns out, they did not appreciate it."

"What did you do?"

"I created a little bit of chaos."

"What kind?"

"The bloody one."

"Why?"

"I like it. Chaos, I mean. The blood was just an unfortunate turn of events, albeit not completely unexpected."

The girl drew her hand back.

"You are a monster."

He cocked his head.

"I have been told that a lot lately."

"You think creating misery is funny?"

"Oh no. Not the misery itself. The road that leads to misery. But are you so different?"

"What do you mean?"

"You resent me, because I have killed. But you have joined an order of killers, liars and murderers. You yourself have killed already, more than once. I can see it in your eyes."

"They deserved to die."

"For what reason? Because they were doing what they were told to do? For they hoped for a better life? Because someone paid for their death? This order of yours would kill a babe still on the breast and all you would ask is "How much?". And then you consider it as bringing your god's gift."

"And creating chaos for chaos' on sake?" she spat back, "Is that much better? When women and men are killing each other just because you wanted to have fun?"

"No. The difference is - I have stopped long since to justify my actions. But did you?"

* * *

"Did you have a father?" he asked another time. "Oh please, let me correct myself - did the one you used to be have a father?"

"She did," the girl said, nodding. "He's dead now."

"What happened to him?"

"Killed. With his own sword. Because he was loyal to the end."

"Ah. Loyalty does seem to bring people to an early grave. Not all of them, of course, but the point still stands."

"What about your father?"

"Which one? The one who cast me out or... Oh, wait both of them cast me out."

"Why?"

"For being born. One of them, at least; him I killed with my own hands. The other was not satisfied with my actions, so he disowned me, put me in a dungeon for some time and after saving his kingdom, he sent me here accompanied by my fool of an adoptive brother."

"What is he like?"

"Who?"

"Your brother."

"Golden." Really, there was no better word to describe him. "He is the crown prince of Asgard and everybody likes him, no matter how many foolish things had he done that had to be corrected by others. And he is likeable enough, I guess, especially after his big change," he couldn't stop venom dripping from his noise. "He is pleasing to look upon, brave beyond the point of wiseness. He is everything that Asgard and her people could demand from his prince."

"And you were not."

"And I was not," he agreed. "No matter what did I do and how did I do that, there was just nobody who could notice a second prince, when Thor did everything better."

"And that's why you've decided to do what you've done?"

"Partly, yes."

"You were foolish. I do not doubt that there were people who noticed you."

"Noticed how I was different from the lot? Indeed. I woke to my teachers trying to make me see the error of my ways, how sorcery was a shameful thing to do and the dishonor it brought to the royal family and laid with them. They punished me even, when they saw I practiced it."

"And your father or mother didn't do anything?"

"He had eyes only for Thor. Frigga encouraged me, but she couldn't interfere with what the teachers did."

"That's stupid," she said, crossing her legs. He shrugged.

"Traditions."

"Stupid traditions. Never..." she started but caught herself middle way, "They never bring any good. Well, sometimes yes, but if we clung onto them too hard, the change will either hit us in the head, or things will stay forever the same. Which is bad."

* * *

The crow was glaring at him from the window.

Loki glared back.

"Do you like what you see, Odin?" he called out to the bird, "You and your advisors always would have liked to see me broken in." He laughed, then raised his smashed right hand. "Now, I'm literally broken. What do you think? Still not enough?"

"Who are you talking to?" Ah. The girl. Of course.

"To the man who dares to call himself Father of All but One."

The girl looked at the black-feathered animal.

"That's just a crow. It cannot understand you."

"That's what he wants us to believe. Ever clever, right, Odin? Perhaps you should be the God of Lies. I suppose you know which one I like best - the very first one you told me."

"Look at me," the girl said in a commanding voice, turning his head away, touching his forehead. "You are running a fever. Come. Lie down."

"No. Fire. Fire cleanses and it's heading towards us. Can't you feel? We better get ready for it."

"Sit down," she said, tugging at his jacket.

"No, no... This is the time to stand up. For ourselves. The wolf comes howling from the North, chased away by those he thought to be his packmates. He had already met the dragon from the East and the lion with mismatched eyes and the bear are not far away. The golden lion and the flaming stag will stand no chance if... If the she-wolf is ready to go as well. The she-wolf in the night."

"You are mad," she whispered, fear evident in her eyes, "You have gone mad."

"A long time ago, when I was falling between the stars. You know the meaning of the so close and yet so far? Of course you do." He grinned. "What ails you? It's the first time you had seen a madman from, ah, how Midgardians put it, from outer space?"

"Please, just sit down."

"No!" he yelled, shaking off her arm, "The world is playing. Shouldn't we join the game? The game of thrones. You know what I'm talking about. Your father was a part of it. But he didn't play it right, so he was removed along with your brother and the golden stag. The she-dragon played it well so far, but the rules are ever changing."

"What is the meaning of this?" yelled a voice, foreign to his ears. He sent the bald man a grin.

"You shouldn't be here. I didn't see you in the game."

"Please," the girl begged. Why was she begging? Was she not yet ready to join her brother? "Please, help him. He is ill and he has gone mad..."

"We can see that. Go down. We'll take care of him."

But the girl just stood there, frozen, watching as the metal rod rose into the air.

* * *

The darkness was an unwelcomed change. Ever since he was a child, he disliked the darkness.

At least the company was better than what he had in the tower after the girl left.

Suddenly light filled the area, burning his eyes.

No, this couldn't be right. The time did not come yet...

"Is it him?" asked a female voice.

_Is it you, Dragon-Queen?_

"It is," said the girl.

"Jon," said the stranger woman, in a commanding tone. Her eyes shone like amethyst in the light of the torch. A boy stepped forward; no, not boy, a man. No boy would carry himself like that.

_The wolf._

Sword glinted and a moment later his chains were broken.

"Wh-who..:"

"Shh..." whispered the woman, lowering herself, "Do not speak. Take him to my room," she told the two men whom he did not notice yet.

The girl crouched next to him, bringing a small glass to his eyes.

"Drink. This will help."

"Thank you, girl." The she-wolf grinned.

"My name is Arya. Of house Stark."

Loki started laughing.

"A Stark? Really? _That_ I did not see coming..."

The world faded before him.

* * *

The world was on fire, yet it did not seem to concern the heavens as the snow continued to fall, slowly, but surely putting the fire out and burying everything that was ugly.

Somewhere a wolf howled, continued by a roar, signaling their victory.

Loki stood on the top of a fallen house, watching the girl, who was kicking a headless man's body, screaming at him, tears flowing free.

He made his descend, knocking a golden cloak uncoscious again.

"Hey," he said, catching her wrist, "You can't kick him to be any more dead than this."

"I care not," she said, but did not move again.

And then she buried her face into his chest, howling with pain that was not external.

Loki froze, before patting her head uncertainly.

"Shh, it's all right," he murmured.

But was it? Just how long did she have to be strong? Even the greatest, battle-hardened warriors of Asgard had their own breakdowns; now, for a mortal who could not have been much more than a decade...

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes, "I didn't mean to do that. That's what you get for standing closest to me. If it would have been a gold cloak, might be I'd have done the same."

"I doubt that."

Arya smiled.

"Now, let's go. Dany awaits us."

"Yeah," he said, looking up at the black dragon circling above the city, "She does."

* * *

**My deepest apologies. Loki is so out of character (at least I think so) that it hurts.**

**Ah, Jon went back to the wall with Rhaegar to fend off the Others.**

**Yes. Odin paid the House of Black and White a fair amount of gold to not actually kill him, but make him talk about Thanos' plans.**

**It's a story I started a while ago and gave me lot of headaches; but it's finally done. Even if I'm not still satisfied with it. (Am I ever satisfied with my stories? Oh, well.)**


End file.
